Fear
by WhyCantIBreathe
Summary: Hermione loses the two people she loved the most. She's in danger but who is there to rescue her? Why?
1. Chapter 1

They're gone.

_What am I standing here for then?_

**Gone.**

There's nothing I can do. Could have done. I didn't do anything.

I just sat there and watched. I watched them die.

I didn't have a choice. Well, I kind of did. I mean, if my brain had let me move I would have done something.

But I didn't move. I couldn't. All I could do was stand there in front of the home I used to live in as it burned into nothing. Everything inside it was smoldering and hot. CRASH! I heard glass shattering. The windows.

All of our personal possessions (not that they mattered that much); The furniture. The pictures. The food. All of my clothes. All of our memories. Gone just like that. Everything gone, all of it. I had nothing. No one to turn to. Not even them.

My brain is screaming for me to run as far from here as I can but I still can't move. It's like everything is moving in slow-motion just before something bad happens. Yet my surroundings are moving so quickly about me. Everyone's yelling and running. I don't know what to do. I can't hear anything. I can't even think. The fire is too high and the smoke is too thick. "Aguamenti," I whispered outloud. But that's all I could do is whisper.

Burning. It was all burning. _You didn't - couldn't do anything. Run._ Tears welled up in my eyes at the sight laid before me. They threatened to spill over the rim of my eyes and I let them.

That's when I saw it. _Really_ saw it. . .

Suddenly, my reality returned to me and the noise of people screaming in agony and fear was like that of a siren wailing in my ears. "John!" I hear a woman scream. "John, no, please, he's still in the house! Paul, he's still in bed! Nooooooo! Not my son! _Not my son_!" she shrieked.

The heat from the flames and the smell of the smoke almost made me sick. I was surrounded by fire. The neighborhood was aflame and no one was safe.

_This isn't a safe place. _

The wind was blowing harder than I remembered and my eyes widened. _What are you doing?_ my mind screamed at me.My adreline pumped furiously and I prepared myself. _Run, Hermione. Run... _Run

_Why can't I move?_ I look down. My feet were fine but they felt as though they were filled with cement. I couldn't even lift them. Was it shock? I didn't recognize my hand as I held it in front of my face. A shadow is cast by the fire.

_I am a damn coward. _

_Fucking run, then, Hermione! _

I was too scared at the moment to even save myself.

"John! _John!_"

I turned so quickly I'm surprised I didn't break my neck. The same woman is screaming for her son that is stuck in their burning house.

"No, John!" Her husband was trying to pull her back with his arms around her shoulders. "Lynn, he's dead! We can't save him!" _Yes you can_, I wanted to cry but nothing came from my mouth except for a weak sob.

I felt for my wand in my pants pocket and yanked it out. I could see through John's second-story window. I raised my wand in the air. Before I could shout, the room glowed green and the woman screamed, falling to her knees as she sobbed over and over. "JOHN!" My lungs collapsed in my chest. How much more of this could I take?

_Someone save me... Someone..._

_Apparate, you dolt!_

Apparition! I tried to concentrate through the chaos but I can't. I couldn't risk splinching myself...

People in masks (Death Eaters) were running everywhere and I didn't know why they couldn't see me. Or chose not to. Why was I not dead like John? Or my parents. Why was I so lucky?

Why was I still there?

"Hermione!" a familiar voice - a voice I knew and had grown to fear - shouted to me. It was a man but even as I turned round and round in fear I could not find him. No! He grabbed me in his arms from behind and disapparated before I could stop him.

A/N: Who found/saved/kidnapped Hermione? As if you couldn't guess.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fear**

**Chapter 2**

"Nooooo!" Hermione shrieked, trying to push off the man's hands. "Let me go!" But he did not do as she wished.

The room they had Apparated into was vast and almost completely dark except for some moonlight illuminating through a few windows.

"Impervius!" he said without releasing her.

_He can do wandless magic_, she thought, and worse:_ No one can hear me._ Still, she fought him, managing to shove him with her weight into a nearby book shelf.

"Argh!" He let go of her, clutching his injured head. "God damn it, Gra-"

She stumbled through his room until she found his bed and climbed onto it. Above her head she saw something dangling down, from a fan, and saw a light switch. Wherever they were, there was electricity. She yanked the switch confirming that it had been the person all along that she'd thought it was.

Draco Malfoy. He hadn't even moved from the spot by the window and shelf, where a few books had fallen pell-mell to the floor. She still felt safest with her wand extended in his direction. Could she just disapparate? Would escaping only be that simple?

"Don't even _think_ about doing what you're thinking about doing," he said in a surprisingly calm voice that almost disarmed her. He was tenderly touching the back of his head where she'd made forceful contact. He stepped away from the wall.

"Don't you move!" she yelled. "I'm fully capable of Disapparating on my own. I don't need permission, especially not yours!" She was still shaken from what had just happened. She wanted so badly to just break down and cry, but would not. _Not in front of Malfoy._

He laughed, almost sadistically. "Where would you go? Back home?" She knew he was right. "And in the state you're in you'd splinch yourself, no doubt."

"That's where you're wrong," she whispered, raising her wand.

"Granger, don't be stupid!" he yelled. "I just saved your life. Are you really going to just risk killing yourself?"

"You wouldn't save a dirty Mudblood like me if you're life depended on it," she growled.

"Do you even have the faintest idea where you are, or what's happened? Wanna know why those Death Eaters are roaming Muggle London, torching everything and everyone?"

Hermione was at a loss of words. "Uh, erm, no," she croaked out.

He took a few more slow steps in her direction. "Well, I can assume you can put two and two together to know that the Death Eaters have escaped Azkaban prison."

Her eyes were now in slits. "You're father –"

"Yes, my father, Granger," he said coldly. "_My_ father. They're avenging Voldemort's death and are planning to kill each and every last Muggle. That includes you, too, Granger."

"Then why'd you save me. You despise me. You loathe me with every inch of your pathetic being. Why would you go out of your way to be so heroic as to rescue me of all people?" she spat, never taking her eyes off him.

"I'd never gone out of my way," he said truthfully. "You were just standing there and it was a last second decision." He scoffed. "Usually people thank others when they save them. I guess that's beyond even you."

"Shut up!" she yelled. "I don't trust for one second that you intended to save me. You're holding me hostage, are you not?"

Draco smirked. "I am, but only until you understand," he said. He was maybe standing five feet away. Fear suddenly struck Hermione like never before and she leapt from the bed in hysterics.

He ran after her when she ran to the other side of his room, the only thing separating them being a table. "Ha! No where to run. You know, you really should be a bit brighter when it comes to getting away. You trap yourself." And with a crash, he jumped over the desk, grabbing her by the arms, and shoving her against the wall.

_No! No, no, no, I'm a goner!_

She was pushing, beating, and kicking him with what little strength she could muster, tears spilling from her eyes as she cried, "Don't kill me, let me go! I'll do anything, don't – don't hurt me, ple-ease!" The piercing of her high pitched cries was like that of nails on a chalkboard. "No! Get off me, don't hurt me!"

"Granger," he said in her ear, having no problem holding her down. His hands were holding her wrists by her head and his knee was wedged in between hers. When she didn't cease fighting him, he shouted, "GRANGER! I'm not going to hurt you!"

She stopped kicking, her chest rising and falling heavily near his. "You're one of them, aren't you? A Death Eater?"

He laughed cruelly in the back of his throat. "Look for yourself, love," he said in a low voice, stepping back and holding his wrist out to her. She didn't move "That's what I thought. Even if I was, who else have you got to trust?"

"What makes you think I should trust you to begin with?" she replied viciously.

"'Cause Granger, I've got an ace up my sleeve. I'm protecting you from my father who would surely kill you."

"Other people than you could protect me!"

"Who? Potter or Weasley? They don't stand a chance against all those Death Eaters and Dumbledore's dead in case you've forgotten, Granger." Then he said, "I'd be the last person my father would expect to protect a Mudblood and you have something I want."

"I'd never –"

"I don't want to fuck you, Granger, if that's what you were thinking. No, it's much deeper than that. I'll let you know in time. Now give me your wand."

She went to slap him but he caught her wrist in his own hand, squeezing so tight she was certain he'd broken something. His demeanor had changed greatly. She'd never seen him look so angry. "Don't you ever hit me. I had every right to leave you in front of that burning house to die like your parents."

"What do you expect of me?" she said in a weak voice, breathless. Her face was wet. "I have nothing anymore. I-" She choked back the bile in her throat as he locked the door and went to sit on his bed.

"They'll find me," she said quietly.

"They won't," he said reassuringly. "This house in Unplottable. No one can find it unless they're told where it is." This place was just like Sirius's old house. It disappeared so that no one could see it once you went inside. "If you ever leave, you won't be able to get back and I won't save you again."

"I don't care what's out there, I won't help you!"

"Oh of course you do. You have no family, no belongings, and no clothes. How else do you expect to get along? Walk around in . . . _that_ for the rest of your life?"

Hermione looked down at her filthy clothes that were wet and covered in dirt.

"I suppose you'll want a shower," he said lazily, standing from the bed.

She nodded, not looking at him. It looked like she had no choice in this matter. She'd have to help him.

"Come then and I'll get you something to wear," he said, leading her out of the room and down the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco had gotten down the gist of the Muggle appliances but the washer hadn't been one of them. He hadn't liked Hermione's outfit that much anyway and insisted on burning it.

Morning had come and gone, and the only thing he'd been able to get Granger to do was stay in the shower. He wouldn't bother her. He knew better than to bother women while they were in the shower. It only led to trouble. _Or,_ he thought smirking, _other things_...

With the help of a witch-maid, he had clothes brought straight to the doorstep – you couldn't apparate in or out of the house, yes, like Hogwarts – for Hermione to change into. He called up the stairs several times and after shouting up the stairs, "Hermione Damn Granger!" he irritably trudged up the steps down the hall to the bathroom. Her name felt like poison on his tongue.

He went to knock on the bathroom door but stopped when he heard gasping noises and then sobs. Loud, horrible, awful, painful sobs that tugged at his heart strings and echoed in the hallway. He could just imagine her lying on the floor holding herself.

_Her parents were just murdered,_ the voice in his head said. _Idiot._

He let out a sigh and instead of knocking on the door and interrupting her mourning, he placed the clothes in the next room, her room, and left the hallway.

For now...

Hermione didn't come out for the rest of the day, not even to ask for supper. Dressed in a long sleeve white and collared shirt and black pants, he looked at the clock. It read 7:00pm. He'd been patient and done nothing but waited in the living hall for hours. He couldn't take it anymore and went upstairs to see what was keeping her couped up in her bedroom all day. Without even thinking he burst into her room, but the sight before him made him wish he hadn't. He stood rooted to the ground.

Hermione was laying in her bed, the satin sheets enveloping her body, clad in a beautifully sewn white night gown. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying for Merlin knows how long and her face looked pale. She looked like death, curled up and facing him. But she looked calm. She was silent.

"Granger?" The concern in his voice shocked him, even as he took a few steps toward the bed.

Hermione did not answer him and stared at his a space near his feet without blinking. It was eerie how she seemed to stare right through him.

Draco repeated her last name. This time she stirred. "Huh?" He had to be careful where he tredded now. Anything could set her off, or cause her to start sobbing again. He didn't want that. He cleared his throat. "I have dinner made if you'd like some. Surely you must be starving," he insisted. Not knowing what to do with his hands he placed them in his pockets.

Hermione softly shook her head, no.

His eyebrows raised. "No?"

"I'm not hungry," she said in a quiet voice.

"Are your clothes alright?" he added. He had to get her to eat something or she'd starve to death before she could help him.

"Yes, they're really lovely," she replied in the same quiet voice. She forced a momentary smile. "Thank you."

He made a mental note that she looked good in white. "Granger, listen to me, you've got to get out of bed. You can't starve yourself to death!" he said.

He mouth twitched again. "I won't. Can we talk tomorrow though? I'm exhausted."

He shook his head to himself. He could tell her no and try to force it out of her but he knew it would be no good. "Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, of course. And you'll eat something."

"Mm'kay." She rolled over and he was staring at her back now.

Draco woke up the next morning, and entered the kitchen (in his boxers) where Hermione was already there waiting at the table. Her appearance of looking like death hadn't changed much except for the fact that she wasn't crying right now. "Hello," she said in the same timid voice.

"Morning sunshine," he sarcastically said in a low voice. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Do you have any muffins?" she piped up.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he said tiredly. He opened a cabinet, pulled out a fresh blueberry muffin, and placed it on a plate in front of her. He made some eggs for himself and brewed some coffee. Hermione had barely taken apart her muffin when he placed a cup beside her plate, seating himself.

"Thank you."

They ate in silence until the both of them had finished. Draco took the initiative to speak first.

"So..."

"If you're going to start going off about my parents, I'd rather you save your breath," she said in a firm voice.

"Well..." he said, a moment lost for words, "if that's what you need to talk about (or not) that's fine."

Before he even knew it she'd begun to cry again. "I don't even know what happened! Why are they doing this? Why'd they ruin my life?"

Draco had to think for a second of who "they" were. "The Death Eaters?" Voldemort was long gone since the end of their seventh year and it had been one long year since _The End_ of the war. Apparently it wasn't over just yet.

Hermione didn't answer him, but just held her hands over her face.

_Damn,_ he thought,_ I didn't get her to eat anything yet._

He heard her take a shuddering gasp of air and looked up. "What happened?" he asked. "Before I got there?"

She shook her head. "I c-can't remember much. The house caught fire and I was told to get out. I ran out of the house looking for my parents and they were no where to be found." The took a deep pause to breathe through her mouth. "Everyone was screaming and running and shouting and it was all just a horrible mess and I-I wanted to go back ... and save my parents but I just couldn't move."

He shifted in his chair. "You were in shock."

She nodded in agreement.

"And... and I knew they were gone when the house sort of... collapsed..." She made a downward gesture with her hands. "Crookshanks d-didn't... I mean, I don't know where he is either."

"_Crookshanks_?"

"My cat."

"Oh..." he said. _The ugly orange fur ball that looked like it'd been beaten with a bed pan one too many times._ "I'm sorry to hear that."

She shook her head with a forced grin. "You don't even care." With that she stood from the dining table and left to go upstairs.

_In the light of the sun, is there anyone? Oh it has begun..._

_Oh dear you look so lost, eyes are red and tears are shed,_

_This world you must've crossed... you said..._

_You don't know me, you don't even care,_

_You said_

_You don't know me, you don't wear my chains..._


End file.
